


Hands

by telera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Food Play, Hand Fetish, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/pseuds/telera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt at the kinkmeme: "Will has a thing for Hannibal's hands, and Hannibal is very much okay with this. Bonus if Will sucks on Hannibal's fingers somewhere within the story".</p><p>I am in love with Mads' hands ^^</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

There was something fascinating about Dr. Lecter’s hands. Tanned and strong, Will watched them mesmerised as Hannibal scribbled something in his notebook or stirred his homemade mayonnaise. It was the way they moved, in fluid, elegant motions, whenever he sharpened his drawing pencil or opened the door of his office. Surely Hannibal did all this unaware of the effect it had in Will- after all they were routine movements he repeated countless times every day. But for Will even the most casual gesture was enough to catch his eye and make him shiver.  
  
Will anticipated his appointments with Dr. Lecter to watch his hands resting quietly on his lap, the long, bony fingers intertwined in a patient gesture. A shy smile and Will looked away when he felt he had been staring for too long, but less than a minute later his eyes roamed back to Hannibal’s hands, which flexed so casually to hand him a book.  
  
At nights Will closed his eyes and fantasised about what those hands would feel like. They had to be warm, and soft, the manicured nails blunt and short to allow for all the activities Hannibal carried out in the kitchen. Were his palms calloused? Not likely. And his finger pads, were they rough? No, they would be smooth to touch the keys of the harpsichord with a delicate yet determined purpose.  
  
One night Will had a particular dreadful nightmare where Hannibal’s hands clawed the chest of a patient open, operating with innate skill until his hands were covered in red blood gloves. How many lives had Dr. Lecter saved at the ER? How many babies had he delivered, his hands witness to new, most vulnerable life? He must also have felt death gripping many patients, young, old, deserving and undeserving. What did _that_ feel like?   
  
Some other nights Will woke up sweaty and embarrassingly hard, the feel of Hannibal’s imagined hands ghosting around his neck. He wanted very much to feel them, and kiss them and hold them, worshipping every whitish tendon and blue raised vein as he begged for a blessing. Probably absolution.   
  
And so it happened that one day Dr. Lecter was filling some  _mille-feuilles_  in his kitchen when he dipped his finger in the white, hard meringue. Will was watching, as he always was, and to his shock Hannibal didn’t clean the mess on the kitchen towel, he simply offered the sweet finger with a knowing smile.  
  
‘Want a taste?’  
  
Will stood frozen on the spot for what must have been a ridiculous long moment. He thought about refusing, because he had to, otherwise he’d be lost- but then Hannibal came closer and poised his playful finger on Will’s lips.  
  
‘Open’.  
  
Will knew a split second before obeying that Hannibal knew, had probably known forever, and Will felt relieved, absolved of his little secret, and also extremely aroused. He stuck the tip of his tongue out to lick at the meringue, but then he realized he didn’t need to be polite about this. Hannibal probably didn’t want him to. So Will grabbed his wrist and sucked at his long finger, lapping at the meringue like one of his thirsty dogs, slurping noisily with closed eyes and sighing when he was done.   
  
Hannibal didn’t pull away, and so Will revelled in the touch of his hand, smelling and rubbing it across his face to commit this precious moment to his memory forever. And Hannibal allowed it, his hand lax and pliant, but after a while it tensed like a spider on Will’s face. Will caught his breath as Hannibal’s fingers traced his jawline, feeling his soft stubble and tickling over his cheek.   
  
‘Docto-’ he started, not really knowing what he wanted to say, but never finishing the sentence as a wicked thumb insinuated past his lips, brushing his gums and playing with his tongue. Will sucked on the thumb instinctively, feeling how the strong digit calmed him down in an instant.   
  
‘Hum’ he murmured pensively, letting Will suck his thumb like a greedy child ‘We’ll talk about this fixation tomorrow during our session, but for the moment…’  
  
Will’s eyes widened as Hannibal dipped his middle finger in the bowl of custard. He knew he had lost a battle, probably even more than that- but as he licked the sweet, delicious finger he couldn’t care less.


End file.
